


Bucky Barnes's Taxi Service

by orphan_account



Series: Stucky AUs [14]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, chaotic good steve rogers, there's a rabbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:02:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7493088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve likes to stand his ground, but there are some situations that he doesn't need to stick around for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucky Barnes's Taxi Service

**Author's Note:**

> Gee whiz, who knows!

 

 

“He’s been cheating on me all three years we’ve been together.” Maya sobs into his shoulder when they grab coffee on their lunch break. Fire courses through Steve’s veins and immediately he knows he’s not going to be able to let this go.

 

“What an asshole,” he growls, protectively wrapping Maya up in his arms. It doesn’t matter that he’s slightly smaller than her, she still tucks her head under his chin and she practically curls up in his lap.

 

Maya’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself.

 

But that doesn’t mean Steve can just sit back.

 

* * *

 

 

He goes on Wednesday night, clothed in black from head to toe, a black rucksack hanging off his shoulder. Jarrod’s out, the lights all off in his house. There’s no spare key, but Steve knows this guy, considered him a _friend,_  so he knows if you jiggle it right, the bathroom window will slide open just enough for him to slip through.

 

The thing is, Jarrod gets home at 8.15 on Wednesdays. Never before, because his basketball finishes at 8 and it takes him at least 15 minutes to get home. And seeing as it’s 7:53 now, Steve doesn’t need to rush. He drifts through the shadows, feeling his way around because he knows strange torchlights in a dark house counts as suspicious activity, and he really doesn’t want police trouble.

 

Except something must’ve happened because Steve’s just finishing up, zipping his bag closed when he hears the front door open, and the hall light turns on. He snatches up his bag, heart racing in his chest as if it’s desperate to climb out and run away before Jarrod gets through the kitchen door.

 

Steve doesn’t have time to be quiet, he just sprints for the back door at full speed.

 

“Hey!” Jarrod calls after him, but Steve can’t look around. He can’t let Jarrod recognise him, he’s just got to keep running.

 

Unfortunately for Steve, Jarrod doesn’t give up once they reach the road. Steve’s fast, but he can’t run for too long before his heart starts burning and his chest feels like it’s going to explode. He’s gotta do something, and he’s gotta do it _now_.

 

He spots the bike before he spots the person on it, and it probably says something about him that he was considering stealing a bike just to get away. It’s okay, though because he doesn’t have to steal it.

 

“Go go go!” Steve shouts, climbing on behind the biker and wrapping his arms around their waist.

 

“ _What?”_ The biker squawks, but pulls off from the curb and away from Jarrod. “Oh my God, are we running from the police?”

 

“An asshole ex,” Steve corrects, glancing over his shoulder as the whiz around a corner. Jarrod’s standing on the footpath but he’s not chasing so Steve relaxes against his driver’s back. The streetlights bleed into each other as the pair zip through the city and Steve grins at the feel of it all.

 

“Where are we going?” The driver asks, and Steve figures that while he’s got a ride, he might as well make the most of it. He gives the guy his address with a triumphant grin.

 

“Is everything alright?” The driver asks once they've pulled up outside Steve's building.

 

“What? Yeah, everything's great.” Steve says as he hops off the bike. The driver pulls off his helmet, and _damn_ he's attractive. Steve grins at him.

 

“It's just with a scary ex chasing you onto a stranger's motorbike and all.” The driver matches Steve's grin, his whole face lighting up with it. “I'm Bucky.”

 

“Steve. And sorry about that. But yes, it's really fine. He-”

 

“Is that toilet paper?” Bucky laughs, swiping at a trail of toilet paper hanging from Steve's bursting bag.

 

“Oh. Yes. Always gotta be prepared for an emergency, right?” Steve tries.

 

“Is the whole bag full of toilet paper?”

 

“Of course not!” Steve gasps, pulling the bag from his back to cover it with his arms. Something goes wrong along the way, though, because a buckle is broken and the flap lifts up enough to show Bucky that even if it wasn't completely filled with toilet paper, there is too much in there not to be suspicious.

 

“That's a lot of toilet paper.” Bucky says.

 

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “More than I thought there would be.”

 

“More than you thought there'd be? Is that not your bag?”

 

“It is my bag, but it's not my toilet paper,” Steve explains. Bucky gives him a nod, as if to say _go on_. “It's a long story.”

 

“I've got no immediate plans,” Bucky says with a shrug. Steve sighs.

 

“Right. Um, I put laxatives in the coffee powder and stole the toilet paper from a guy who cheated on his girlfriend for three years?” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck. It sounds pathetic and petty, but Jarrod deserved it damn it.

 

“Oh shit,” Bucky whispers, lips curling up at the edges.

 

“That’s kind of the idea, yes,” Steve says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Bucky snorts a laugh, shaking his head slightly. He’s still straddling his bike, one foot on the footrest while the other holds the bike up. His short hair’s tousled form the helmet and his wrists are loosely crossed, draped over the handlebars. He looks at Steve, blue eyes soft under the streetlight, and Steve’s Gay-dar is going through the roof.

 

“Is this something you do often?” Bucky asks, leaning forwards slightly. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes glued to Steve’s.

 

“I always end up in situations like this,” Steve grins, meeting Bucky’s gaze with a smirk of his own.

 

“Bet you’ve got a lot of stories then, huh?”

 

“Yeah. Maybe I could tell you them some time?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow. Bucky flushes slightly, and this is so _easy._  “How does Friday suit?”

 

“Can’t do Friday, but I’ve got no plans for Saturday.” Bucky suggests.

 

“I’m working, but pick me up at Key Foods at 8,” Steve suggests. He’s excited now, this works out perfectly.

 

“It’s a date,” Bucky confirms, grabbing his helmet and shoving it onto his head. “See you then.”

 

Steve watches his drive away before heading inside.

  


* * *

 

 

So the last shift finishes at 7:30, but Steve’s not on clean-up so he actually gets to leave within ten minutes of closing time. (It’s a damn miracle.) This is perfect, because Bucky’s due in about 20 minutes and Steve’s got _work_ to do.

 

He noticed it on Tuesday, the day before he met Bucky, but he hasn’t had a chance to do anything about it since. He sort of feels bad, using Bucky like this- he seems like a decent guy and Steve doesn’t want to lead him on- but there are more important things to deal with than a relationship right now, and one of those important things just happens to be the slurs tagged along the wall of the supermarket.

 

Steve pulls his black outfit on overtop of his work uniform in a dark corner of the parking lot. There’s no one around so he’s not to worried about getting caught. It’s not like he’s never done this before, and last time he didn’t even have an escape route. This is going to be a breeze.

 

Contrary to popular belief, Steve actually _can_ plan ahead. He’s got stencils in his bag- one of Malcolm X’s face, another with the quote, “ _You can't separate peace from freedom because no one can be at peace unless he has his freedom._ ” It’s only fitting to have his face on the wall of a building on Malcolm X Boulevard, his words over what used to be Islamophobic slurs.

 

Another prime example of how Steve can plan ahead is that he sprayed the wall white before his shift, to give it time to dry while he worked. So now he’s essentially got this blank canvas to decorate, and fifteen minutes until his ride turns up.

 

Steve’s happily painting away, his hood covering half his face and foot tapping out a beat on the concrete when the sound of a motorbike engine cuts into the silence. Steve pops his head around the corner, and yes, that’s Bucky. He’s early, but that’s okay because Steve’s almost ready to go, and they didn’t agree to meet for another seven minutes anyway so he's not in the wrong.

 

“Hey!” Someone yells from behind Steve, and maybe he’s not in the wrong with Bucky but he sure is in the wrong with his boss who’s now appeared on the other side of the building.

 

“Fuck,” Steve hisses, and sprints.

 

It really is a blessing, Bucky arriving early, He hasn’t even pulled off his helmet when Steve sprints towards him, clutching his bag to his side because he hasn’t had time to swing it onto his back, and he sure as hell doesn’t have time to do that now.

 

Steve wants to yell, but he knows his boss could recognise his voice and as much as Steve hates working in retail, he’d rather not be jobless and facing vandalism charges right now.

 

Fortunately, Phillips is making enough noise for both of them, and Bucky looks over. His visor is down and Steve can’t see his face, but he’s certain Bucky’s eyes widen when he sees what’s happening. He reaches forwards and starts up the engine as Steve gets closer, probably rolling his eyes.

 

“Go go go!” Steve growls into Bucky’s ear as he clambers on behind him.

 

“I should leave you behind,” Bucky spits back, but he pulls out of the parking lot and races down the street. “If he got my fucking plate you owe me _everything._ ”

 

“He wouldn’t have gotten your plate,” Steve assures Bucky, leaning in close so he can be heard over the roar of the bike’s engine.

 

“You’re a menace,” Steve thinks Bucky says, but he can’t quite catch the words as they fall through air and are left behind down the road. He doesn’t bother replying, just grins to himself and grips Bucky slightly tighter.

  


 

 

“You’re a God-damned idiot!” Bucky shouts at Steve once they’re off the bike. “What the _hell_ do you think you were doing, huh? You were so close, so _fucking_ close to being caught!”

 

“You should be more mad that I asked you out to be my taxi than that,” Steve says calmly. Wrong thing to say, though. Bucky’s scowl deepens.

 

“Oh, I am mad about that,” he says with a stone voice and ice eyes. Steve stands his ground.

 

“Okay, first of all,” Steve begins and Bucky lets out the most dramatic groan Steve has ever heard. “First of all, at least I planned an exit!”

 

“That doesn’t give you brownie points!” Bucky interrupts, but lets Steve pick up again.

 

“Second of all, Phillips isn’t usually out until _after_ eight, at the very earliest-”

 

“Wait, you know the guy who was chasing you?” Bucky cuts in again, eyebrows disappearing under his floppy hair.

 

“He’s my boss,” Steve mutters, looking away from Bucky for a second.

 

“Your boss. Your _fucking_ boss caught you graffiting his building and chased you onto my bike?” Bucky asks incredulously. “Is that right, did I understand you properly?”

 

“Yeah, but it’s not like he knew it was me!” Steve protests, but it falls on deaf ears.

 

“You- I can’t even deal with you. If my hair goes grey tonight it’s your fault,” Bucky sighs, slumping down onto his bike.

 

“Your hair is fine, stop being so dramatic.” Steve mutters.

 

“I can’t be bothered arguing with you,” Bucky groans, running hand through his hair. “Actually, that’s a lie. What on this God forsaken planet could make you think it’s a good fucking idea to vandalise your boss’s building when you know for a fact he’s inside, huh? Tell me, please, there was some sort of rational thinking behind your idiotic moves.”

 

Steve blinks at him, mildly offended. “Of course I had a reason, asshole. There was racist shit. It had to go.”

 

“Of course, Of _course_.” Bucky says, and Steve scowls at his tone.

 

“Of course what?” Steve demands.

 

“Of course, you think you’re some sort of vigilante or something, right? Always gotta do the right thing, because you’re above the law and all.”

 

“Hey! It’s not my fault the law is fucking flawed as shit! Sure, we’d be worse off without it, but that doesn’t mean it’s _good_. I’m not going to back down just because I’m meant to, so don’t expect me to.”

 

“Oh, trust me, I don’t.” Bucky snaps, but he immediately looks like he regrets it. “Look, Steve. I don’t really know you, but I can tell this is only going to get worse.”

 

“Shut your mouth.”

 

“Oh my God, let me finish! This is only going to get worse, and it’s going to get a lot worse a lot sooner if you have to run away on foot.” Bucky continues, looking at Steve with stubborn winter eyes. Steve nods, encouraging Bucky to continue.

 

“Take my number. Text me your location and time, and I will try be there for you. But you have to tell me what I’ve saved you from and if I disagree with any of it, I’m out. Okay?”

 

This is possibly the best thing that could ever happen to him, Steve realises. Not only does he have a getaway vehicle, but his driver is _hot_ and nice. Score.

 

“Yeah. Okay, I can work with that.” Steve grins, holding out his hand for Bucky to shake.

 

“What am I doing,” Bucky mutters under his breath, but shakes Steve’s hand nonetheless.

 

 

* * *

  


There’s a rabbit Steve passes on his way to work. It’s been there for about two months, in the same small cage on the same uncovered balcony. There’s no grass for it and its cage is too small, and really, it deserves better.

 

The only reason Steve hasn’t already done something about it is because he holds on to the hope that its people do care about it, and treat it right, and Steve only ever happens to pass when it’s in the cage.

 

Except now it’s raining and the rabbit’s still up on that balcony, the small amount of hay in its cage wet and the food turned to mush. It’s not like the people are out, either. Steve can see the light on inside, the silhouettes moving behind the closed curtains.

 

He calls Bucky.

 

“What have you done now?” Bucky asks as soon as he picks up.  

 

“Nothing yet,” Steve says. “There’s this rabbit-”

 

“Oh my God,” Bucky groans. Steve lets out an irritated noise.

 

“It’s always left outside, on an open balcony with no grass in a tiny cage. It’s pissing down and the people are inside but this rabbit is out if the cold! It’s going to get tail rot or something!”

 

“You mean you’re telling me,” Bucky sighs, “that these people are home and you’re going to steal their rabbit out from under their noses?”

 

“Yeah.” Steve says. It sounds stupid when Bucky says it like that, but he’s gonna. “Wanna be my getaway car?”

 

“I’m only doing this because if I don’t, and you die, that’s on me.” Bucky groans. “Send me the damn address.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“The first rule of riding with me is you _must_ wear a helmet. This isn’t even negotiable.” Bucky says when he pulls up outside a thoroughly soaked Steve.

 

“Is that a beanie?” Steve asks instead, pointing at the black cloth fisted in Bucky’s hand. Bucky looks down at it too and holds it out with a nod.

 

“Yeah. Figured you might not be prepared.” He shrugs, and there comes that blush again.

 

“Aw, thanks Buck,” Steve grins. He pulls the beanie over his head, and it’s slightly too big but it’s warm and so much better than nothing. “How do I look?”

 

“Adequate. Now get that damn rabbit and let’s go, it’s pouring.” Bucky whines, rubbing his hands up and down his arms to warm them up.

 

There’s an old tree with branches fairly close to the balcony, and it’s only one floor up, so Steve’s absolutely fine getting there. Sort of. (He can see Bucky’s anxious pacing below him but he doesn’t slip and he makes the jump from the branch to the balcony without alerting the family inside.)

 

The rabbit shies away from Steve when he unclasps the roof, and his heart breaks in two at the sight of the frightened animal.

 

“It’s okay,” He says gently, holding his hand out for the bunny. It doesn’t move towards him, just stays frozen in the corner with its wide eyes. “You’re gonna be okay.”

 

He manages to scoop it up easily, but that’s not as reassuring as it could be. It’s probably frozen in shock, and Steve just hopes its weak heart doesn’t fail on it. He tucks the grey bundle inside his jacket and makes his way to the rail of the balcony when he realises the biggest flaw in his plan. Because having the family inside the house is one thing, but having no way off the balcony is another. He won’t be able to jump to the tree, not with the branches slick with rain and a rabbit in his coat.

 

So he’s left with two options: knock on the door and exit through the house, or jump and hope like hell he doesn’t break an ankle or hurt the rabbit.

 

It isn’t even an option, though, because Seve’s literally stealing a rabbit. He can’t go through the house.

 

“You are not jumping from there,” Bucky calls up, and Steve’s mind is set.

 

“Fucking stop me!” He calls back down.

 

That wasn’t a good idea, though, because there’s a thud from inside and Steve spins on the spot to see a figure making their way towards the balcony door. He doesn’t have time to figure out the best way to jump, or the best landing spot. He just goes, leaping over the rail, hands curling around the rabbit in his top and one hundred percent fueled by adrenaline.

 

Bucky lets out a really impressive string of colourful curse words and rushes forwards so Steve crashes into him instead of the concrete.

 

“You’re going to get yourself fucking killed!” Bucky growls in his ear, dragging him onto the bike and thrusting a helmet into his hands. “Is the rabbit okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve says. From what he can see, the bunny is fine. But they don’t have time for a proper examination because there’s someone on the balcony and they need to get the fuck out of here right about now.

 

“Put your goddamn helmet on!” Bucky shouts over his shoulder, starting the bike up and taking off down the street. Steve fixes the helmet with one awkward hand,  not wanting to let go of the rabbit but also not able to let go of Bucky.

 

“I’m trying, I’m trying,” he mutters, knowing full well Bucky won’t be able to hear him. He gets it on eventually, though, and when he looks up again he realises he doesn’t know where they’re going.

 

“Where are we?” Steve asks when they pull up outside an apartment building and Bucky hops off his bike.

 

“My place. Come on, let’s get the rabbit inside and see how it’s doing.” Bucky says, leading Steve inside. Bucky lives on the sixth floor, but there’s an elevator that actually works, so they take that up. Steve unzips his jacket and rearranges the rabbit to a more comfortable position.The poor thing has perked up slightly, sniffing Steve’s arms and looking around, and Steve feels himself relax a fraction.

 

“What are you going to call it?” bucky asks when the elevator reaches his level.

 

“Thumper,” Steve replies without hesitation.

 

“Like Bambi,” Bucky grins, unlocking his apartment and leading Steve in. It’s small in a nice way, and in that comfortable stage between messy and tidy. Bucky toes off his shoes and slings his bag on the couch. “Let’s bring ‘im to the bathroom.”

 

Thumper starts to wriggle in Steve’s arms, curious now the environment's changing around them.

 

“Just you wait,” Steve whispers as Bucky lays down some fresh towels on the tiles before setting Thumper down.

 

“We’ll let him sniff the place out before I look at him.” Bucky says as he fills up a small bowl with water from the tap. Steve didn’t even notice him get the bowl, but then again, Steve had a _bunny_ in his arms.

 

So Steve and Bucky sit on the sink counter and watch the bunny settle in to the sound of the rain outside pounding the windows. Thumper explores the new territory, but it’s really just a small rectangle, so it doesn’t take long before Bucky can lift him up to see how he is.

 

“First off, Thumper is a girl,” Bucky says. “Also, I’m not a vet, but I think she has bumblefoot.”

 

“That is a ridiculously cute name.” Steve says, moving closer to scratch her head.

 

“Yeah, but a less-cute disease. It’s not too bad, though. Very early on. We’ll just have to dry her and make sure her paws stay dry as possible until the redness fades back to normal. She’s not losing fur yet, it’s a good thing you got her when you did.”

 

“We,” Steve corrects. “Can’t forget about my totally awesome getaway driver.”

 

“Whatever,” Bucky laughs, and that brilliant blush is back. It may or may not be Steve’s new favourite thing. “Anyway, bumblefoot is caused usually from being in a damp environment, so if she’s inside for the next wee while, she should heal nicely. She just needs some hay, and probably pellets.”

 

“Does she need those right away or can we get them in the morning?” Steve asks.

 

“She’ll be fine ‘til tomorrow. I’ve got some parsley I can give her.” Bucky says, opening the bathroom door. Steve follows him out quickly before Thumper can try to escape, and trails after him to the kitchen.

 

“Look at you, rabbit whiz,” Steve grins as Bucky grabs the bunch of parsley from his window ledge. Bucky rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

 

“My grandparents used to have them, and whenever we stayed with them my sister and I would take the rabbits inside and play with them.” Bucky says, his voice all soft and mushy. “I've always loved rabbits.”

 

“Good thing you've got one now!” Steve laughs, not-so-subtly hinting he wants Bucky to keep Thumper. It's clearly a good choice; Bucky knows how to look after rabbits and Steve- well, Steve's Steve.

 

“Oh, no. I am _not_ keeping her,” Bucky says, coming to a stop outside the bathroom doo. He turns to look at Steve, his hands held up as if to defend himself from Steve's persistence.

 

“Why not?” Steve demands. “You love rabbits! You know how to look after them!”

 

“That doesn't mean I'm suited to own one right now! I actually have a life, Steve. You're the one who stole her, you're the one who has to deal with the consequences.”

 

“I couldn't just leave her there! She was being abused!” Steve protests. “Besides, I don't have a garden.”

 

“And you think I do?” Bucky counters. “Look, Steve. I agree that the rabbit needed saving. But I also think you need to realise your actions have consequences.”

 

“You're going to make me keep a rabbit as punishment,” Steve deadpans. Bucky shrugs, but he's trying to smother a smile and turns to open the bathroom door before Steve notices. (Too late.)

 

“You can get indoor cages-”

 

“Perfect for your apartment-”

 

“I'm not keeping her! She can stay here until her feet are better. Then she's leaving.”

 

“You're no fun,” Steve mutters under his breath.

 

“Oh my _God._ Shut up.” Bucky groans, squatting down and holding thr parsley out for Thumper. She takes it and Steve can't help but laugh at how funny she looks as she eats.

 

“She's so cute! I love her.” Steve beams, sitting down on the towels and taking some of Bucky's parsley to give to Thumper. The bunny’s more hesitant with Steve than she is with Bucky, but the fresh greens are too tempting and soon enough she's in Steve's lap. “ _OhmyGod._ ” Steve whispers to Bucky.

 

“Yeah, pal. She's yours.”

  


 

 

“I should get going,” Steve relents eventually. “I'm working 8 til 5 tomorrow.”

 

He's insanely glad that while he has a boring retail job, his hours aren't shitty and he has the weekends off. He just has to get through tomorrow before he can have a break to figure out what the _hell_ he's going to do about the new addition to his home.

 

“I'll drive you,” Bucky offers immediately. The rain has stopped, but it's still cold outside, and the sun set hours ago.

 

“Yeah,” Steve says. “That would be nice, thanks.”

 

They make their way down to Bucky's bike in silence. Steve's desperately trying to think of something not-awkward to say, but when he looks over at Bucky Steve realises he's the only one affected by the lack of conversation.

 

“Do you need directions?” Steve asks as he climbs on behind Bucky, pulling the helmet onto his head.

 

“I remember,” Bucky says with a shake of his head. For some stupid reason, Steve feels his insides light up at that.

  


 

Bucky drops Steve off with the promise of picking him up the day after next at midday. He has a friend whose car he can borrow, so they can go to PetSmart and find a cage and equipment for Thumper. Steve can't wait.

 

* * *

 

 

Saturday seems to take forever to come round, but Steve (miraculously) makes  it without getting into trouble.

 

“Are you serious? This is the perfect place for an inside cage!” Bucky says as soon as Steve opens the door. Steve doesn't tell him that's because he spent his Friday night moving furniture to find the best spot with sunlight and shade, close enough to an openable window.

 

“Yeah,” he says instead. “Let's get going.”

 

Bucky's friend has a red and black valiant, and Steve's not much of a car person but even he can appreciate it.

 

“Nice ride. Will he be mad if we get straw all through the boot?” Steve asks, climbing into the passenger seat.

 

“Nah. It's pretty impossible to make Clint mad.” Bucky says, pulling out from the curb. “And we won't get get straw all through the boot.”

  


 

 

They don’t actually get straw all through the boot; it comes covered in plastic. They get plenty, as well as pellets and salt licks (??? Bucky said they’re worth getting so here they are) and an indoor cage and a fucking rabbit harness.

 

(Bucky said it was a good idea.)

 

(Bucky said it was on sale, anyway.)

 

(Bucky said it would allow Steve to take Thumper out to parks and-)

 

(Bucky said, Steve listened.)

 

“We might as well pick her up now while we have a car. Her feet are fine and I trust you to keep her dry.” Bucky says as they leave the store parking lot. Steve nods from his seat, but doesn’t say anything. He’s looking at the receipt, feeling a little bit sick at how much money he’s spent.

 

Bucky offered to pay for some of it, very adamant that if he was forcing Steve into caring for an animal, the least he could do was help him with the cost. But Steve can’t swallow his damn pride for more than three seconds. He’s going to choke on it one day, and won’t even be able to call for help because it’ll be stuck in his throat, suffocating him before he can get a sound out.

 

“You okay?” Bucky asks, cutting into Steve’s thoughts. Steve looks up at him and blinks.

 

“Yeah, I- Yeah,” He says. “It’s just, it’s a lot of money.”

 

Bucky glances at him again, a pained look on his face and Steve knows exactly what he’s thinking. It’s the same looks Sam gets when he finds out Steve’s been knocked down _again,_ it’s how Steve feels when he wants to fucking help.

 

“It’s okay,” Steve continues immediately. “I have the money. I’m just not used to such big purchases. I’ve never really had money, so I’m not used to it.”

 

“If you ever need help-”

 

“I won’t.” Steve assures him.

 

“You can’t just know that! Oh my _God,_  shut _up._ ” Bucky groans, and Steve’s never heard someone sound so exasperated by something he’s said. It’s kinda funny, in a nice sort of way.

 

“I did ask you for help,” Steve says after a moment of silence. “I’ve asked you to drive me places.”

 

“Steve. Oh my God. That does not count!” And if Steve thought Bucky was exasperated before- “You took advantage of an opportunity you saw. To help strangers in your twisted Chaotic Good Slytherin way. That’s ambition, not reaching out.”

 

“I’m not a Slytherin,” Steve huffs. “I’m a fucking Gryffindor.”

 

“You are not a Gryffindor. You’re a Slytherin.” Bucky says with such finality even Steve lets it go.

  


 

 

Thumper hops right over to Steve as soon as she sees him.

 

“Hey there, Thumper.” Steve says, scooping her up in his arms. Bucky leans in to give her a kiss on the top of her head, his hair brushing Steve’s nose. He must’ve washed it recently, because it smells really fucking good and Steve feels like a creep for wanting more.

 

“Hello, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs. “You’re going to stay with Steve now.”

 

“Last chance, Bucky. You can keep her, it’s clear you’ll miss her. Plus, you’re good at looking after her.”

 

“I work with preschoolers 8-4 five days a week. I don’t have the energy for a pet on top of that. Besides, she likes you.” Bucky says, scratching Thumper’s head

 

“Fine,” Steve sighs, and lets Bucky force this damn ball of fluff into his life.

 

* * *

 

“Did you know,” Steve says into his phone, eyeing up the deli across the street, “that Penny’s has an average of five family pies and eighteen of those mini rolls left unsold by the time they close for the day?”

 

“Those rolls are pretty damn good,” Bucky says, the line cracking his voice slightly.

 

“But expensive,” Steve prompts. Bucky makes the cute little humming sound he makes when he nods. “And they put the price down by 75% for the last hour, but all unsold food is still thrown out.”

 

“What are you getting at here, Rogers?” Bucky huffs, sounding amused.

 

“Meet me there in fifteen minutes?”

  


 

 

Bucky turns up right on time. Steve can hear Penny singing away to herself in out the back, and he’s just managed to stuff his bag full of her leftovers.

 

“We’re not going in?” Bucky asks, sounding confused when Steve jumps on the bike behind him and winds his arms around Bucky’s waist.

 

“What?” Steve frowns, leaning closer. He probably doesn’t have to hold on this tight (especially because they haven’t fucking left yet, _come on Bucky_ ) but he makes no attempt to move.

 

“To get cheap bread,” Bucky says, turning his head around to look at Steve. He’s even got his helmet off, loosely hanging from one hand and Steve’s from the other. Steve scowls.

 

“We’re not buying. We’re donating it.” He says, He doesn’t notice how close Bucky’s face is to his, or the split second it takes for Bucky’s eyes to flick to his lips, or that their breaths are mingling in the air between them. Steve does _not_.

 

“You- _shit_ ,” Bucky gasps, pulling his helmet down over his head and shoving Steve’s in his arms. “I can’t fucking believe you!”

 

“What?” Steve protests, still trying to figure out how he went from having his chest practically touching Bucky’s to having, like, a whole foot between them.

 

“Put your goddamn helmet on, Robin motherfucking Hood! Penny’s coming and I’m in half the mind to leave you to her, you shitfuck!” Bucky spits, taking off before Steve can assure him he has the helmet on.

 

(He must be pissed.)

 

“In my defense,” Steve says, leaning into Bucky’s ear.

 

“Don’t you fucking start.” Bucky snaps back. Steve rolls his eyes.

 

 

“You literally robbed a shop!” Bucky growls once they’ve donated the food to a soup kitchen. If Steve wasn’t so sure of his morals he’d be intimidated by that growl.

 

“I also fed a shitton of people!” Steve growls right back. “There were eight pies there today, Buck! That’s at least 50 meals!”

 

“Fuck you and fuck your fucking _pure_ morals you fucking shit-cabbage!” Bucky whines, stomping his feet like a child on the verge of a tantrum.

 

Steve can’t help it. He laughs.

 

“Shit-cabbage? What the hell is a shit-cabbage?”

 

“I don’t _know_! I don’t fucking know!” Bucky groans. “I’m tired and hungry and need a fucking break.”

 

“Go eat a shit-cabbage,” Steve laughs, knocking his shoulder into Bucky’s. “Sounds healthy.”

 

“Eat _my_ fucking shit-cabbage,” Bucky mutters under his breath. He knocks Steve back so Steve assumes he’s forgiven for dragging Bucky down with him in his law-breaking ways. (This time.)

 

“You’re such a loser,” Steve says, but even he can hear the warmth in his voice.

 

* * *

 

Steve's walking a different route home, half because it's a nice night and half because he wants to avoid Thumper’s old house. The different route isn’t even that much longer, it just means he has to pass through the unlit park.

 

Steve’s more focused on avoiding the muddiest patches than he is on his surroundings. He literally just washed these pants and he doesn’t want to have to wash them again before his next shift.

 

He’s just trying to figure out how to get around a particularly swampy patch when he hears a distressed sound from not too far ahead. His head snaps up and he’s halfway through the puddle before he can even identify the sound.

 

It’s coming from a woman- no, a _girl_. She’s probably just a teen, and she’s with this guy- probably Steve’s age, except it’s dark and Steve’s never been good at guessing ages- and she looks very uncomfortable. The guy has one hand around her wrist, his face in hers.

 

“No,” she says, and that’s all Steve needs to hear before he’s leaping through the air like some flying squirrel or some shit. He lands on the guy’s back, starling him into letting go of the girl.

 

“Fuck off you fucking creep!” Steve growls in his ear, bringing his hands up to push into the guy’s eyeballs. The girl kicks him in the balls and he collapses to his knees, still trying to shake Steve off.

 

“Get outta here,” Steve says, looking at the girl. She hesitates for a second but nods and runs off.

 

Then Steve’s alone with the guy.

 

And the guy is big. (And Steve’s small.)

 

Steve actually can fight. He’s pretty good at it, picked up some bits and pieces from years of being a scrappy little shit. He just doesn’t really stand a chance when he’s clinging onto the back of a guy twice his size, and said guy decides to just fall onto his back, pinning Steve under him.

 

“Fuck you, asshole!” The guy hisses, slamming Steve down. Steve’s head hits the ground and he’s not sure he heard the crack or just felt the thump echoing behind his eyes.

 

“You’re the asshole here,” Steve slurs. He tries to look at the guy, but that becomes impossible when there are two of him, wobbling in front of his vision.

 

“Mind your own business!” A fist connects with Steve’s jaw but he refuses to let the pain show.

 

“You can’t stop me.” Steve rasps. The guy’s looming over him, anger and malice in his expression, and Steve should shut the fuck up because this guy could _totally_ make him, but Steve doesn’t shut up, he just keeps glaring.

 

“Yes I can.” The guy says, and he kicks Steve in the stomach twice before stalking away.

 

“Go to Hell!” Steve calls after him, ignoring the pain in his abdomen.

 

Then Steve’s alone _without_ the guy.

 

He decides to wait for his vision to steady itself before moving.

 

Steve has no idea how much time has passed, but finally he can see well enough to open his eyes without wanting to hurl so he counts it as a win.

 

(As to how he’s going to make it the last few minutes home, he has no idea.)

 

His first thought it to call Bucky, because he's cold and sore and just wants comfort. Bucky’d help him home, maybe even text him in the morning to see if he’s okay. Bucky’s _good_.

 

So good, actually. He doesn’t deserve this, having Steve chase after him with angered people on his tail. Bucky deserves some sun-shiney island with fruit salads and golden sand. Bucky deserves a vacation, with those bread rolls from Penny’s and pet rabbits to play with and cuddle. Bucky-

 

Bucky said Steve can always come to him for help. And Steve’s lying in a muddy puddle in the dark. Bucky would _want_ to help him. Bucky would probably be mad if Steve didn’t let him help.

 

 **_Me_ ** _: Yu kn ow how you said you;d h epl me_

 

(Oh no. Oh _no_. He should not have sent that.)

 

Bucky replies immediately,

 

 **_Bucky_ ** _: Steve we’ve been over this. Using me to get away from your pursuers does not count as asking for help._

 

Steve frowns at his phone because that is so not what he’s talking about. He presses the call button.

 

“Jesus, Steve. What have you done this time?” Bucky sighs when he picks up on the second ring. “Another fucking mess, right? You need to stop running from these problems. No, you need to stop _causing_ all these-”

 

“Buck.” Steve says, his traitorous voice betraying him as it cracks on Bucky’s name.

 

“Steve?” Bucky says, his voice switching to Concerned, with no sign of the Fed-Up tone he had before.

 

“I think I need help.” Steve whispers. There are tears stinging the backs of his eyes that weren’t there a minute ago. Steve hates crying with a burning passion. He ignores them.

 

“Where are you? What's happened?” Bucky demands.

 

“Park by my house,” is all Steve says, because he can’t be bothered with the second question. In fact, he can’t be bothered with anything right now, he’d rather just lie down for a bit. Preferably in his bed, but that’s not really an option.

 

“Stay where you are,” Bucky says. Steve wants to laugh, because he doesn’t have the energy to move anywhere anyway, but his stomach hurts and his head hurts and his jaw hurts so he stays quiet.

 

“Steve?” Bucky says, like he was expecting a response. Figures, the one time Bucky wants Steve to talk back is when Steve really doesn’t want to.

 

“Steve.” Bucky repeats, a bit more urgently now. Steve scowls, even though no one can see him.

 

“What,” he snaps.

 

“Okay. Okay, I’m on my way. I have to hang up now to drive. I’ll be there soon.” Bucky says, words spilling out in a rush. He hangs up. Steve smiles to the sky.  

  


 

“Oh my _God_! Steve, you look like shit,” Bucky says when he runs up to Steve. Steve laughs from where he’s lying and struggles to sit up.

 

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he coughs. Bucky moves right down to steady him, a warm hand running circles on Steve’s back. It feels surprisingly good.

 

“Think you can stand up?” Bucky asks, cautiously placing his arm around Steve’s back and into his side, ready to take the brunt of Steve’s weight if need be.

 

“Of course I can,” Steve says defensively, as if he hadn’t just spent the last however-long lying in a puddle.

 

“Right.” Bucky says, helping Steve to his feet.

 

“I can walk by myself.” Steve mutters, his arms curled protectively around his middle.

 

“Humour me,” Bucky says and his hands stay where they are. Steve tries not to lean into him, but Bucky’s dry and warm and cosy, and Steve’s a shivering mess.

 

“What happened?” Bucky asks in a soft voice when they’re about halfway across the field.

 

“There was a guy. He grabbed this girl and she asked him to stop and he was scaring her, Buck. So I jumped on him.”

 

“You jumped on him,” Bucky repeats. “Like, on his back?” Steve shrugs.

 

“I know I’ve been complaining, but I think I like it better when you rin away.” Bucky says. Steve bristles at that, because he’s not a damn coward.

 

“I don’t run away,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “Some situations don’t require me to stick around. Others do. Today was one of those.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Bucky agrees. “But I would still rather be caught up in your illegal adventures than have you bleeding out in a puddle.”

 

“I’m not bleeding! And it’s your fault I got all beat up, anyway.” Steve accuses, jabbing a finger in Bucky’s ribs. Bucky squirms, but doesn’t try to get Steve back. (Which is good, because his side still aches.)

 

“How could this possibly be my fault?” Bucky asks with a laugh.

 

“Because I used to be better at fighting, but now I’m used to being picked up before it gets to that, so I’m out of practice.” Steve says.

 

“You can’t blame me for your being a scrappy piece of shit,” Bucky scoffs. “That’s bull.”

 

They’re pretty much at Steve’s now, which is good because Steve’s fucking cold and fucking tired. He fiddles around in his pocket until he finds his keys, then holds out the right one for Bucky to take.

 

“So what actually happened?” Bucky asks as he takes the keys from Steve and unlocks the front door to the building. “Injury-wise.”

 

“Uh, he fell onto his back?” Steve says, taking the keys back off Bucky to find the one for his unit. “While I was still holding on. I think I hit my head.”

 

“Fuck,” Bucky mutters, pushing Steve through his door. “How big was the guy?”

 

“Uh, about 180 pounds.” Steve answers quietly, as if that would make Bucky any less mad. It doesn’t work, funnily enough.

 

“Shit, Steve, that’s like twice your weight!” Bucky hisses, steering Steve to his bedroom. “How did you get that bruise on your jaw?”

 

“He may have punched me. And, uh, kicked me in the stomach.” Steve admits, tucking his chin down so he doesn’t have to look at Bucky’s face. “Twice.”

 

“I’m going to kill him.” Bucky growls. Steve makes his way over to his dresser to get something more comfortable to sleep in. “Steve, can you remember these three things for me? The colour blue, the number seven, and cat.”

 

“Blue, seven, cat,” Steve repeats back, pulling out a t-shirt and sweats.

 

“Thanks. I’ll get you a cup of tea, you get into bed.” Bucky slips out the door, leaving Steve to get changed in peace.

 

He’s just settling into bed when Bucky pushes the door open, a cup of tea in one hand and Thumper on the other. Steve feels his whole face light up at the sight of her.

 

“Baby!” He grins, holding his arms out to take her.

 

“Can you remember the three things?” Bucky asks, placing Thumper in his lap and setting the tea on the bedside table. Steve nods.

 

“Blue, seven, cat. Was that a concussion test?” Steve asks, scratching Thumper on her head. Her eyes narrow to a slit and she flops down with her legs kicked out behind her.

 

“Yeah, you passed with flying colours. You also managed to text me- with a lot of mistakes, mind you- and walk home without puking. I think you’re in the clear.” Bucky smiles at him, eyes all soft and warm Steve could drown in them.

 

“Thank you.” Steve says quietly.

 

“You’re welcome.” Bucky says just as quietly. “You’re good with Thumper, she’s happy with you.”

 

“Everyone’s happy with me,” Steve laughs, glad for the change in topic. He looks up at Bucky, and Bucky’s- oh.

 

Bucky’s got that soft look in his eye and Steve clicks. Because Bucky agreed to go out with him when they first met (even if that isn’t what Steve had planned), so he must find Steve at least a bit attractive. And now they’ve hung out a bit, and Bucky always comes when Steve calls.

 

“You should just stay here tonight.” Steve says. “The bed’s big enough.”

 

Bucky gives Steve a _look_ and says, “you hit your head, hard enough for you to ask for help. I imagine it takes a lot for you to ask that. I’m not taking advantage of you.”

 

“If I hit my head I really shouldn’t be alone,” Steve counters, his hands still curled up in Thumper’s fur. Bucky holds his gaze for another moment, then sighs.

 

“Fine. But I’m sleeping on the couch.”

 

Baby steps, right?

 

* * *

 

 

Steve wakes up with a headache and sore mouth. His first thought is, _Bucky’s here_ , followed immediately by, _Bucky needs to be at work at 8am_. His alarm clock reads 9:44am.

 

“Bucky?” He calls, slipping out of bed and walking down the hallway. He’s not actually expecting Bucky to still be there, so Steve’s pleasantly surprised when he turns to the kitchen to find him rummaging through the cupboards before pulling out the coffee.

 

“You’re still here,” Steve says dumbly, and Bucky whirls around.

 

“ _Jesus_ , Steve! You need a bell or some shit.” Bucky gasps, hand over his heart. “And I took the day off.”

 

He took the day off. He took a day off to look after Steve. This guy is whipped and they haven’t even started dating. Steve smiles at him.

 

“Anyway,” Bucky says, straightening back up from where he was leaning on the counter. “Should you be up? Did you get enough sleep?”

 

“I’ve been up and running on less sleep after a worse beating, pal. I’m good,” Steve assures him.

 

“No. Go back to bed, I’ll bring you coffee.” Bucky orders, sorting out the coffee machine on Steve’s bench.

 

“Bring Thumper, then.” Steve says, deciding to just go with it. His bed is exactly how he left it, sheets all rumpled and fluffy, and so inviting. Steve climbs back under, careful to keep to one side so Bucky and Thumper will fit.

 

“Rabbit,” Bucky says as he comes in with Thumper and drops her on the bed. He’s disappeared again before Steve can get a word in.

 

“Hey, girl,” he says instead, holding out a hand for Thumper. She hops over to him, sniffing his hand before coming right up to him.

 

“I hope you like stew, because if you pee in here that’s what you’re becoming.” He warns her as she slips under the duvet and nestles into his side.

 

“That’s harsh,” Bucky says, coming into Steve’s room with two cups of coffee. He closes the door with a swing of his hips and Steve pats the spot in the bed next to him.

 

“Join us, it’s warm.” He says, and Bucky hardly even hesitates before sliding in next to Steve and passing him the coffee. Steve takes it and places it on his bedside table to cool down for a moment.

 

“Where’s Thumper?” Bucky asks, placing his own coffee on the windowsill.

 

“Over here,” Steve says, lifting the covers a tad to show the rabbit’s little grey nose.

 

“Aw,” Bucky says, leaning  over Steve to pat her.

 

He’s real close now, practically in Steve’s lap.

 

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky turns to look at him. They’re even closer now, it wouldn’t take much to just-

 

Steve kisses him. Bucky’s mouth is soft and warm under his own, tasting like fresh coffee. Steve brings his hand up to cup Bucky’s jaw, but Bucky pulls slightly away.

 

“Your head,” he murmurs, eyes still fixed on Steve’s mouth. “How’s it feeling?”

 

“My head is fine. It has been this whole time,” Steve says, desperate to get back to the part where they kiss. “Okay, maybe not the whole time if it’s taken me this long to actually ask you out.”

 

“You haven’t asked me out,” Bucky says. True.

 

“Bucky,” Steve says, pulling back a bit more so he can see Bucky properly now. “Would you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

 

“I’d like that very much,” Bucky says, his warm smile causing his face to positively glow and he leans back in to kiss Steve.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo pls send me prompts i am Suffering here.
> 
> I am on [tumblr](http://wonderfullywandering-alone.tumblr.com/)


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